A Picture Worth A Thousand Words
by FantasytoHeart
Summary: REWRITTEN! The Howling Commandos were Captain America's trusted comrades in arms, but how did they take Steve's transformation from a sickly kid to super soldier. One shot


**I rewrote this original prompt from Little-Miss-laughs-a lot in connection with my other story, It All Starts Somewhere. It is now twice over twice as long as it was before.**

The night broke into dawn and it was a new life for the prisoners of Hydra. Hundreds of soldiers from multiple Allied armies were gathered in a clearing a few miles from the burning factory.

There was an unspoken, collective need to get further, but there were injured and the men needed to gather their resources.

The exhausted sank gratefully to the ground, weeks of hard work and little food had left the soldiers feeble and the fight to escape had sapped the little strength that existed.

Amongst the men stood their savior, a tall, broad man in a ripped leather jacket and an outfit that showed him to be American. He drifted between groups of men, checking on their wellbeing and informing them of where a few medics that had also been captured were floating around.

"Private," He called to one of the few soldier that had remained standing. Skinny, scruffy kid ran over and snapped to attention. "At ease," Steve said awkwardly, it was the first time someone had ever saluted him. "Take some weapons and those that can still move and search for water. But stay close, the enemy may still be out there."

"Yes, Sir. Captain . .Am-erica" The soldier replied hesitantly. He looked eternally grateful when Steve waved him away without another word.

The refugees would rest for a couple of hours before moving on. The area was still dangerous and no one knew where they were but the injured still needed care that could not be delayed. A couple of unfortunate souls had already succumbed to their injuries. Steve sighed at the covered bodies lined up at the edge of the field.

Wounds varied from exhaustion, illness, broken bones, and gunshots. No one that had been hit with a Hydra gun survived; there weren't even tags to gather.

Suddenly the tall soldier leap to the top of one of enemy tanks that was taken, "Alright, we are 30 miles south from an American camp. That's our destination; once they are stable get the injured on the tanks. Every able man, get a weapon and guard the perimeter, I don't know how many Hydra soldiers are still in the area."

After the announcement, Steve scanned the group of men looking for one in particular. Steve strode purposefully over to a soldier and one of the few medics in a heated argument. "I'm fine. There are others that need your help more than me." Bucky's New York accent drifted over.

"You were brought from that doctor's office, please tell me what happened so I can help you," the young field medic argued. The kid was young and determined to treat everyone not matter how stubborn. He had seen gunshots and broken bones, though the man in front of him looked well enough The Captain who freed them had pointed the soldier out for a in depth exam.

"How did you know that was me?"

Steve decided to intervene then, the situation was deteriorating quickly. "Because I asked him too." The look of broken betrayal in Bucky's eyes may have only lasted a couple seconds, but it stab at Steve's heart. His friend's face harden into a stoic mask. He was not the young man Steve had parted with in New York. "You should be seen by a doctor," he appealed.

"I said no," was the lethal hiss. If Bucky decided something there little that could change his mind. The medic was silent, blown away that a Sergeant would disobey a direct order of a Captain. But Bucky was still behind on the news so Steve relented.

Steve waved the medic to his side, speaking quietly. "Here, I'll watch over him and let you know if he needs help. Take care of the others, we will have to move on soon." The Captain towered over the young medic, his hand engulfing the kid's shoulder.

When they were alone, Steve kneeled close to his best friend. Watching as Bucky's eyes danced over his new, broad form. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

"No."

"I just wanted to make sure you were ok."

"I don't need another doctor poking at me right now." Bucky looked away, the light blush of what Steve feared was a fever on his cheeks.

"Please, you never kept anything from me before. This is not a good place to start."

"Then tell me about you," Bucky said. "How are you here? What happened to you? And what the hell are you wearing?" gesturing to the brightly colored costume beneath the coat.

"That's what I wanna know?" A deep voice added into the conversation. Both friends turned to see a large man with a bowler hat come up to them. "Not that I'm not thankful for the jailbreak, but see one guy take out an army by himself makes me curious."

"If you do not mind a more formal introduction, Captain. I am 2nd Lieutenant James Montgomery Falsworth," The Englishman politely slid into the conversation. Behind him, his former cellmates and Jim Morita followed, each introducing themselves.

"Captain?" Bucky asked. He let Steve haul him up. The grip on his hand tightened as he swayed slightly and Bucky felt another against his back to stead him. He cursed the lightheadedness as he knew his friend wouldn't let him get away without getting checked on now. If the others noticed, they thankfully didn't point it out.

"Yeah," Gabe answered. "This guy takes out all of the guards and calls himself, Captain America."

Bucky just stood, staring at Steve, mouth gapping like a fish.

"You should close your mouth. You'll attract flies," Steve joked, for once looking down on his best friend. It was an awkward to try and get used to the new angle.

"What the hell happened?" The now shorter man seethed. "And don't say you just joined the army. What the hell is Captain America?"

Steve waved his hands in a placating gesture, the men around the group were looking up at Bucky's shout and they were already on edge. He knew that his transformation was a lot for his old friend to take in, but Steve had never considered how to explain it to him, so focused he was on making sure the other was alive. And now he had an audience. Steve had been Captain America for almost a year, traveling around the country. He had gotten used to his new form, but when faced with someone who had known before Project: Rebirth. He was suddenly uncomfortable about the scrutiny by his best friend.

So he stalled. "Look now isn't the time, we need to get out of here. I have a transmitter. Oh damn." Steve pulled out the small black device only to see it with a gaping hole in the middle of it. He had hoped that Agent Carter would be able to meet them part way, but it looked like there was a long walk ahead of them. The next thing he knew, Bucky was pulling his coat aside.

"You were shot!" He and the others looked closer trying to see how bad the damage was. Ignoring Steve's protests as usual, Bucky found a rip in his ridiculous costume and judging by the burnt edge and brown stain it was caused by a bullet. However the wound itself was nothing more than an angry red line that looked to be more from irritation than a fresh gunshot. "How?"

"Oh," Steve said nonchalantly, not noticing the wound until now.

"Oh?" Morita questioned, "Not the typical response to getting shot."

"Yeah, the serum is supposed to speed regenerative functions. I guess it works."

"Serum? Is that what the kids are calling liquor nowadays?" Dugan asked.

"Cul sec," Dernier said, referencing a common French toast to drain your glass.

"Captain Rogers?" Falsworth promoted.

With Bucky and the others starring him down, Steve knew he had to explain. He decided for the short route, "Remember the Stark Expo we went to before you shipped off?"

Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes, "from back then?"

"Well that was the start. . ." Steve went on to explain in basic terms being selected for the super soldier program and that he was the only one to be a success.

"I don't understand," Gabe put in. "What about you has changed?"

"You mean besides growing a foot and gaining 100 pounds," Bucky said sarcastically.

"Well, I don't have asthma or any other issues, anymore," Steve added cheerfully, trying to sooth his irate friend.

"How tall were you before the serum?" Falsworth asked. Bucky answered instead, still trying to absorb the fact that the moment he left Steve unsupervised the punk did something completely insane.

"Last time I saw him he only came up to my shoulder."

"Yeah, that just sounds like something from the _Wizard of Oz_," Morita grunted, doubt was written all over his face.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Dugan added.

"Here, I have this," Bucky said, pulling an envelope from his boot. When they had been captured, Bucky quickly tucked the mementos from his jacket to his boot before the coat was taken from him.

Inside was an old photo of him and Steve in front of their first apartment together. The faded photo had been through some rough times during the war, but the happy face of two boys free from battle and death were still visible.

The men gathered around the photo, trying to compare the skinny boy smiling back to the huge soldier in front of them.

"Umm," was all that was said. Dugan was laughing so hard, he was wheezing and his bushy moustache was wiggling.

Dernier was speaking rapidly in French, but no one was answering. Gabe and Falsworth both attempted to speak, but failed. Jim Morita stared for a moment then shrugged; "now I guess I've seen everything."

"Maybe not everything," Bucky muttered to himself, the Red Skull flashed through his memory. Then pain from the doctor's hands was there as well, he remembered with a shudder. Steve bumped his shoulder, knocking him over a step and dragging him back from the dark thoughts.

"Now what about all this?" Bucky asked instead, pushing the leather aside, reveling the bright colors beneath.

"Well," Steve began awkwardly, having hoping to avoid this. "After the serum, I traveled around selling war bonds."

"You punched Hitler over 200 times?"

"His name is Greg. He's a nice guy."

Dugan only laughed harder, going red in the face. His jovial mood was contagious and the others were chuckling with him at the Captain's expense.

"Excuse me, Sir," The young medic from before had come back. "I didn't know who else to give these to."

Into Steve's palm, he dropped three more dog tags. They were heavy in hand and one had specks of blood on it. The others instantly sobered. "Thank you," Steve said, placing the tags in his coat pocket, clinking against the ones already inside.

"Falsworth, Dugan, Morita get the perimeter up and Gabe make sure the wounded are taken care and on tanks, Dernier translate for them." Were the quiet orders. The men separated to their tasks.

"And me?" Bucky asked.

"Just stay, rest," the super soldier asked of his oldest friend. As Bucky opened his mouth to argue, Steve cut him off, "you're not going to challenge the orders of a Captain, are you?"

"You are entirely too pleased with yourself," Bucky said, but to Steve's surprise did sit back down. A tribute to how exhausted his friend truly was.

Steve went to oversee the pack up. The rest had been short, but it was enough to get most on their feet. The thought of making to warmth, rest, and food was encouraging. Steve was in the process of helping a soldier with a broken leg on a tank when the shout went out.

A stray Hydra soldier came charging into the field. The man stood dumbfound that he wandered into the hornet's nest. "Hail Hyd-urck," The tri-colored shield bounced off the enemy's mask and he dropped with a heavy thud. The shield landed the a couple feet away. Falsworth made it to him first, a commandeered weapon raised high. The Englishman confirmed death by a broken neck.

"Let's move," Steve ordered. And the men around him hurried. With shield in hand, Steve met Bucky on his way, "Buck, come here." As the man stumbled up to him, Steve grabbed Bucky by the waist and lifted him on to the closest tank, like he was a small child.

"Jesus! Steve!" Bucky was shocked at being bodily lifted, let alone by his skinny friend whom, when he last saw, could barely carry anything without triggering an asthma attack. Bucky wasn't the tallest person and he had lost a bit of weight as a prisoner, but it still should not have been so easy to relocate him like that. Processing his shock, he tried to swing back off the tank until Steve scolded him as he walked away.

"Stay on that tank," Steve strode to the lead. He passed Gabe as he walked, "Keep an eye on him." Gabe nodded his understanding, positioning himself to flank the tank Captain's friend was on.

In no time the refugees were on the move, the tanks were rolling, loaded with wounded and the rest walked along side. Bucky could see the top of Steve's helmet at the front of the column as he sat sullen at the edge of the tank. His boot clanked against the side of wheels and his envelop bounced out on to the dirt. "Shit," Bucky tried to scramble off the tank without getting caught in the wheel in the process. By the time he managed to safely get off, he had lost track of his envelop.

"Hey Jimmy," Dugan appeared at his shoulder, slapping the papers against Bucky's chest. "You dropped these."

"Thanks," Bucky said, looking through them to make sure nothing had fallen out. He soon realized he could not find the one of him and Steve from two years ago just as he heard Dugan say, "Damn, it's hard to believe."

Bucky saw the big wave the missing photo at Gabe. "Where did you get that?" The brit questioned.

"He took it," Bucky growled, snatching the photo and the man's gun from Dugan. "Don't you know it's rude to take things without asking, Dum Dum?" Bucky jogged away, annoyed at Dugan's brusqueness, but pleased with the laughter at his back. He needed some laughter in his life at the moment. Bucky was out of breath by the time he caught up with Steve. The others that had interviewed his friend flanked him.

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes when Bucky appeared at his elbow with an M-1 rifle in hand. "I know you still have questions." He said.

Bucky just smirked, Steve wasn't the only stubborn one. He was glad that hadn't changed. "Good thing it's a long walk," He answered, bumping shoulders with his friend.


End file.
